The Charge

"I'm crushing your head! I'm crushing your head!"

Opening Statement

When Monty Python's Flying Circus first blasted onto PBS stations over
30 years ago, no one had ever seen anything like it. Offering irreverent skits
containing incongruous ideas hurled at one another (sometimes in the same
sequence) and utilizing darkly comic animation that linked the lunacy into
unbridled streams of comic genius, a new standard of sketch comedy was born.
Like The Beatles before, the men of Monty Python arrived on American
shores like conquering heroes and completely shook up the landscape of humor and
the very foundations of popular culture. Prior to Python's advent,
television wit was derived from either old burlesque and vaudeville scenarios or
stock characters tossed in clichéd conventions. There was very little that
was new or inventive; throughout the medium's infancy, only Sid Caesar and Ernie
Kovacs managed to create something that people considered classic. Once Terry
Jones, Eric Idle, John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Michael Palin, and Terry Gilliam
entered the arena, all bets were off, and the benchmarks were redrawn forever
upward. After their brief stint in the spotlight, the Pythons retired to the
realm of legend…and the occasional hit film.

Since then, entertainment has been seeking a new set of sketch comedy kings
to inherit Python's place on the lampoon throne. The original Not Ready
For Prime Time Players from Saturday Night Live always get a mention, and
indeed, as time has passed, they have earned their spot in the holy hilarity
hierarchy. SCTV also commandeered a place at the foot of funny, creating
its own fractured universe of clever characterization and small-world
sarcasm.

But since the mid-'80s, the schism between good and bad sketch shows has
grown even wider. Mad TV is an only occasionally farcical fiction, never
rising to the level of its classic cracked namesake magazine. Comedy Central has
tried to launch several static series, unfunny fiascos with names like Exit
57 and the Upright Citizens Brigade. But the true heirs to the
Python throne were waiting in the wings of the Great White North, hoping
for a chance to expose their manic mantle to a waiting public. HBO became the
home for the next generation of great sketch comedy when The Kids in the
Hall debuted in 1989.

Thanks to A&E, we now have a chance to revisit the brilliant boys and
their half-hour of hilarity. The Kids in the Hall: The Complete First
Season is a great way to remember the humble origins of these now-knighted
members of the court of sketch comedy kings. The show is still as fresh and
funny today as it was when it first aired over 15 years ago.

Facts of the Case

The five very talented individuals who make up The Kids in the Hall
are Dave Foley, Bruce McCulloch, Kevin McDonald, Mark McKinney, and Scott
Thompson. Most began their career as improvisational actors in the second-tier
nightclub scene in Canada. At one point, Lorne Michaels (Mr. SNL and a
card-carrying Canuck comedy legend) caught their act and brought The Kids to New
York, in hopes of securing a television deal. Eventually, both HBO and the CBC
(Canadian Broadcasting Company) expressed interest, and a skit series classic
was born. On this DVD, you get the following episodes (information content taken
directly from the DVD press kit):

The Evidence

Sketch comedy can be gauged by several standards to determine its success.
First and foremost, is it funny? Does it make one giddy with delight or stunned
with stupidity? The next value is one based in character. Does the show or skit
manage to create classic personalities that become instantly recognizable and
memorable? And do the non-specialty personas offer humorous homage to obvious
everyday personality types, or are things just too weird and obtuse? Then there
is the performance prerequisite. Comedy cannot connect if the acting is off or
the timing is muffed. So all the talent involved must be able to rise to the
occasion and deliver the delirium with skill and panache.

Then there is the final piece of the puzzle, a far more elusive
element—a mysterious X-factor that can best be described as a spark of
brilliance. It's not something that can be crafted in a computer or conceived
on-set. It cannot be sense-memoried or improvised into being. Indeed, it seems
that this enigmatic attribute derives from an odd cosmic coming together of
personality, persistence, promise, and productivity. Add in a little essence of
excited ephemera and some good old-fashioned karmic magic, and something special
can grow. As much as people want to argue that hard work and talent are enough
to create a classic comedy, the dozens of non-clever corpses littering the
avenues to entertainment nirvana are too numerous and odiferous to count. No,
the X-factor needs to be there to generate the genius, to help the extraordinary
stand out and get the recognition it deserves.

The Kids in the Hall is such a work of X-factor genius. Managing to
mesh divergent talents and ideals into a cohesive whole is one thing. But The
Kids also find a way to make the difference distinct and delightful. It's hard
to imagine how sarcasm can intermingle with a flamboyantly gay dynamic and some
throwbacks to slapstick and the family situation comedy to create their merry
chaos. Yet The Kids make it work—doing so without relying on many of the
sketch comedy conventions to cement their laughs. You will see few celebrity
impressions here, even fewer out-and-out parodies, and their lampooning is
directed at types, not titles. Later in the show's run, they would come to play
the personality card, giving the Queen and her clan a royal waxing. But the
First Season is an opportunity to see a group of gifted performers finding their
voice and honing their skills.

This is why The Kids in the Hall: The Complete First Season is so
eclectic. Where else would you find a lisping homosexual opining on the facts of
queer life along side a music video homage to guys named Dave? The first series
was a chance for The Kids to experiment with characters like the Head Crusher
and the unhappy married couple Gordon and Fran. It was an opportunity to create
ridiculous recurring roles (the secretarial pool, Mr. Cabbage Head) and flesh
out old stage ideas for the ever smaller screen. These shows set the foundation
for such future flights of funny as Gavin, the know-it-all savant of the
strange, the devilishly demonic Sir Simon Mulligan and his impish manservant
Hecubus, and the New Age numbskull Darrill. Season One is pure Kids in the Hall,
taken from the improv club and conformed to television's delicate demands. It
would also be the last time their vision would be untainted by the tools of
technology.

Like Python and SNL before it, the show managed to tap into
its time—in this case, the post-avarice hangover of the 1980s—and
comment directly on the growing disenfranchisement in the social norm. The
emergent homosexual agenda and the further fracturing of the nuclear family were
also hilarious hot-button issues. But in a similar vein to SCTV, The Kids
also relied on a stable of consistently used, well-imagined and complex
characters to satisfy the desire for an element of recognizability to the
series. That is why the show is far more verbal than visual. Many of these early
sketches relied on verbal humor to establish their excellence, and where there
is writing, there is in-depth personality development and backstory. The Kids
also utilized a tried-and-true element that Python (through Gilliam's
animation) and SCTV (through the TV station foundation) made famous to
make the wildly varying tone of the sketches seem like part of a complete and
total enterprise. That is why the "30 Helens" sequences or the Head
Crusher vignettes are so important. They help link the material together, giving
the show an outward face and unified style. There is also a reliance on the
comic monologue, the chance for a single cast member to take center stage, stand
before the audience and bare his soul (or completely lose himself in character)
for a thoughtful bit of wit. Perhaps the best way to describe the success of
The Kids in the Hall is to look at the comedy itself and try to decipher
what made their brand of ballyhoo so memorable, especially as the work of other
wannabes came up so ludicrously short.

Certain themes pervade the skits of The Kids, ideas that aren't usually
explored in sketch comedy. A great amount of Season One's silliness is derived
from businessmen and the corporate infrastructure. The networking suit-and-tie
crowd is constantly roasted and toasted. Yet the gang behind the CEO
scenes—the vigilante secretarial staff (personified by the wonderfully
funny and dead-on accurate "Two Cathys" segments)—is also given
moments of true-life laughter and human-based bickering to highlight the
hilarity. Sex and dating are elements one expects from a group of young males,
but The Kids manage to accurately incorporate both the masculine and the
feminine point of view into the show. Drag is an institution in sketch comedy,
but the group here manages to find a fresh way with a wig and a skirt. Their
female façades are never meant to be outrageous, over-the-top shrews (like
Python's peripatetic Pepperpots), but subtle recreations of the ladies in
their lives (mothers, sisters, girlfriends). And frankly, The Kids make great
women. Occasionally, you forget these gals are being played by men—and
completely buy the pretty premise.

But as with all members of the male species, the testosterone can't be held
back for long. With the flood of Freudian fuel comes a lot of deep, distressed
darkness. Death and mayhem, brutality and blood rear their redolent heads
throughout most of The Kids's comedy, and it may be safe to say that The Kids
in the Hall was probably the first splatter sketch comedy series. The troupe
definitely utilized that genre's occasional tone shifts and corpse-carving sense
of humor to infuse their farce with wickedness. Indeed, The Kids in the
Hall were all about anarchy in atrophy, a chance to witness real drollness
and intelligence in an unforced and incredibly clever (and sometimes cruel)
manner.

The best way to review this box set is to pinpoint classic comedy bits from
each disc to indicate the outstanding level of lunacy inherit in this show. Disc
One has many such manic highlights. When the squash playing bandito, "The
Eradicator," charges onto the screen, Bruce McCulloch's craven cry of
cowardice is just brilliant. So is Kevin McDonald's portrayal of a hideously
awkward "Ballet" student. In this sketch, the bow-legged lass is up
for a dance scholarship, and the contrast between the real student and Kevin's
study in stupidity is great. McCulloch shines again in a hilarious music video
spoof in which he sings of all the guys he knows named David or
"Dave." The nimble-fingered "Head Crusher" makes his first
appearances with an act so outrageously simple and yet so purely masterful that
you wonder why no one had thought of it before Mark McKinney.

But perhaps the best single moment on Disc One is "Salty Ham," the
sketch that introduces us to Fran (played with exceptional understatement by
Scott Thompson) and the loud-mouthed man of the house Gordon (McCulloch again).
The premise is priceless: Gordon is pissed off because the pork dinner he
consumed was too damn salty, and now his need for liquids is keeping him awake.
He takes out his frustration on his doting wife Fran, who laces many of her
apologies with faint, if pointed, zingers. As the argument builds to a
crescendo, we observe mini-moments (the way they touch hands, the use of
endearments like "Mother") that hammer home the real-life feeling to
this piece. When Gordon asks if there's any Jell-O 1-2-3 left (all those with
the knowledge of said dessert disaster are automatically nodding with nauseated
understanding), it caps off a true comedy classic (and a crass, cranky couple
The Kids would call on throughout the rest of their career).

Disc Two is also filled with fantastic bits. The "Two Cathys"
(Scott Thompson as Cathy and Bruce as Kathie) get their first group foray into
the everyday doldrums of office life in a stellar bit about the beginning of the
work week. The smartly observed details (the coffee fund, the Monday
"blahs") are excellent, and showcase just how intricate The Kids's
writing was. Another terrific examination of family life going to hell finds
Gordon and Fran on their way to a "Vacation" cottage. Their
drugged-out, drunken son Brian is introduced (played with a nice wasted wonder
by Dave Foley), and the entire family dynamic, from how men travel to how
mothers fret, is found here. Clem (played with the right amount of Bourbon
bravado by Mark McKinney) is an archetypal Southern storyteller who keeps the
gang down at the "Barbershop" entertained. But when his haircut is
over, it's impossible for the next man in line to provide the same gift for gab.
The saga of "Skoora!" the gentle shark is told to a tourist by the
mangled and mutilated citizens of a small New England town. The tales of the
untold carnage are always tempered by the guilty conscience of the maudlin
marine animal. Dave Foley and Kevin McDonald turn a couple of complete clods
whom "Nobody Likes" into a duo of loveable losers. But hands down, the
best skit from Disc Two is the "Teddy Bears Picnic." Scott Thompson is
a small child listening to his father's factually inaccurate bedtime story.
Turns out, the deceptive Dad has been using outlandish fairy tales to confuse
his family and hide his "extramarital" activities. Not only is the
acting great here, but there are dozens of memorable lines
("Mmmm…soup!," "She's a magical goat!") to
match the inspired idea.

Disc Three finds The Kids expanding their video vocabulary, relying more and
more on the fantasy elements of the television format (blue screen, special
effects) to broaden their humor. Still, it's interesting to note how Fran's
visit to her almost-divorcee sister Barbara (played by Mark McKinney) doesn't
need a lot of technical frou-frou to shine—just some very "Stinky
Pink" hair. "Compensation" outlines how construction workers can
suckle at the sweet teat of mother workmen's comp, if only they are brave enough
to accept potential disfigurement. And Scott Thompson's hilariously flaming
monologist Buddy Love has his final, fantastic wrap-up for Season One when he
discusses his Canadian heritage.

Yet Season One wouldn't feel complete without a sacrilegious razz on faith
and the final sketch. "The Dr. Seuss Bible" is the kind of inspired
satire that matches the best that Python or SCTV could dish out.
Using the language of the renowned children's author, and employing some of the
most brilliant costumes and set design the show ever managed, the crucifixion is
depicted as a phantasmagoric acid trip, complete with Rube Goldberg contraptions
and some searing secular commentary. Dave Foley's inspired turn as a Cat in
the Hat-style preacher finds its equal in Scott Thompson's iconic Christ in
crisis. They are both blasphemous and brilliant at the same time. For a show
that found must of its merriment in the mundane and melancholy, "The Dr.
Seuss Bible" signifies the turning point for the series and showcases the
edgy, aggressive wit to which The Kids would cater over the next five
seasons.

The best thing about this box set is that it allows you to see these shows
uncut and without edits. Even long-time fans who first saw these episodes on HBO
and memorized them once they came to Comedy Central (as an MST3K maven
myself, The Kids always seemed to precede or follow Joel, Mike, and the 'Bots),
you'll be amazed at some of the stuff you've missed. Of course there is
language—the occasional "S" or "F" word that comes
careening out of a character's mouth. Buddy Cole is a "call a spade a
spade" kind of comic who employs such non-PC calling cards as
"f*gg*t" and "f*g" to get his point across. Indeed, these
epithets, now considered cruel, swirl all around the First Season of The Kids
in the Hall, indicating either a very enlightened ideal or a bold backwards
glance at the attitude surrounding most gay content. Challenging norms was at
the core of The Kids's modus operandi. But there are also little moments,
insignificant dialogue exchanges or extra exposition obviously removed to add
more commercials to the syndicated playback. Still, you'll marvel over the
"Sh*tty Soup" sketch, where The Kids use said descriptive term over
and over again to describe a particularly puke-inducing bowl of broth, or Bruce
McCulloch's expletive-filled volley against his vocation as a bank employee. It
is the reclamation of these long-lost sketches and missing sequences that make
The Kids DVD box set so special, and why even a casual acquaintance of
this series would enjoy this digital presentation.

For you see, The Kids in the Hall is a comic rarity: a sketch comedy
show that doesn't grow tired or dated. If one had to hail a holy trinity of such
skit showcases, The Kids would be right there along side Python and
Second City as an example of how improvisation and originality can lead
to classic pastures. It's a true shame that the Kids never broke out into 100%
mainstream acceptance after the series ended. Sure, they went on to some
individual success (Bruce as a director, Dave on NewsRadio, Mark on
SNL, and Scott as a Larry Sanders cast member) but they are not
now regarded like the ex-Monty men or the currently-guided-by-Christopher Guest
members of Melonville's favorite TV station. The Kids in the Hall is a
great comedy series, a vehicle for five unforgettable talents who created some
of the most clever and memorable amusement modern television has ever seen. This
fantastic DVD package from A&E is a must-own for anyone who spent the '90s
secretly crushing heads, looking skyward for the Flying Pig, and wondering why
it was terriers, not corgis or retrievers, that Bruce liked so much. Hopefully,
this is just the beginning of a multi-disc memorial to one of the last great
sketch comedy creations.

A&E does indeed do a nice job with this package. While some of the
decisions regarding bonuses can be questioned, the overall presentation is
reference quality. The Kids was shot on video and the full frame 1.33:1
transfer is incredible. The images are clean, crisp, and vibrant. There is some
age apparent, as the shows can look a tad faded at times. And the filmed
elements divulge a definite low-budget feel with their Super 8mm grain and grit.
But overall, this is the best The Kids in the Hall ever looked, even on
digital cable. Soundwise, the Dolby Digital Stereo is fantastic. The series
loved using evocative rock music to link skits and scenes, and it's captured
here in all its bass and treble terrificness. Indeed, the aural offering matches
the visual vitality in quality.

But where A&E really excels (and makes a minor mistake) is in the bonus
material. The 40-minute oral history of the group is absolutely fascinating.
Each Kid is present to reminisce and recall (and man, have they aged
since the show started 16 years ago), and their stories of starting out and
finding initial acceptance are extraordinary. Here's hoping that if A&E
releases the remaining seasons on DVD, they continue with this enlightening and
engaging documentary. As part of this discussion of the past, there are clips
from The Kids's now classic shows at the Rivoli Theater in Canada. Somehow,
about 30 minutes of this material has been unearthed and those sketches are
included here. In these boisterous blasts from the past, a mother—during
family hamburger night—tells how she screwed Jimi Hendrix, while a stupid
guest arrives at a toga party, only to learn he has misunderstood the
invitation. There is a lot to like here—hilarious highlights from the
gritty origins of the group. We even get to witness the stringbean Kevin
McDonald in full fatso mode (he lost 60 pounds right before The Kids hit it
big—and has kept it off) as he takes a curtain call.

The best material is saved for last. The commentaries and the long-lost
pilot material are exceptional. The Kids (minus a few minutes of the fashionably
late Scott Thompson) provide a non-stop stream of jokes and jibes as they watch
a clip collection of material from their first season and their special
showcase. After almost 18 years together, the guys have not lost their edge, and
this alternative track is incredibly entertaining. Especially amusing is how
each Kid takes credit for something that you know another created…and how
the originator goes along with the gag. They also offer insight into the origins
of some of the more wacky members of their character entourage, and point to
problems and material that they don't think works anymore. After watching the 20
episodes on the three discs, the series clipfest is a tad anticlimactic.

But the real find is the pilot episode segments. Some of the sketches here
are as comic and classic as the stuff found as part of the regular series.
Highlights include a young man trying to pick up his mother's quite elderly
friend, the Cabbage Head hoping for a little goodnight nookie, and The Kids
sitting around a campfire, celebrating the death of a friend (whose life they
may have ended prematurely). With only 25 minutes of what was an hour-long
presentation, it would have been nice to see the whole thing. But along with the
rest of the bonus material here, the debut delirium of The Kids in the
Hall is a welcome addition to this overflowing DVD release.

The Rebuttal Witnesses

Since The Kids seem to enjoy doing the commentary track on the "Greatest
Hits" bonus material so much, they should have been given a chance—a
la Futurama or The Simpsons—to comment on regular
installments of the show. It would have been nice to hear the boys discuss
Gordon and his salt warts, Fran and her frantic fidgeting, or the actual
explanation for all those Helens. Sadly, we only have the 50 minutes of
narrative here, and the winning, wonderful way in which they dissect their work
makes you want more, as does seeing the clips from the pilot—or the
"Special," as The Kids call it. Frankly, as a historical document,
this show should have been included in its entirety. On a couple of occasions we
hear a discussion about an infamous "Naked for Jesus" sketch and are
even offered a very quick, tantalizing glimpse. But it, along with the rest of
the original show, is absent from this set. Including it would have been a more
fan-friendly ideal. So while what we get is fantastic, being able to see the
whole show would really put the Kids's craft into perspective. Maybe in future
DVD packages we will witness the rest of this Holy Grail to hilarity. But, along
with more commentary tracks, the lack of the entire Special drops this otherwise
spectacular DVD package down a couple of notches.

Closing Statement

It's actually quite hard to understand why, today, The Kids in the
Hall themselves aren't something more than just a cult comedy act with a
small but loyal group of devotees. They are as talented and tricky as the
trend-setting Pythons and ride right along side their Toronto brethren
from SCTV on the hilarity highway. Maybe it's the fact that they were
stuck on pay/basic cable for so long, not finding a broadcast home (CBS late,
late night) until the last year of the series. Perhaps it's because they were
rerun into the ground, used by Comedy Central like PSAs whenever they had a hole
in their programming. But the real reason as to why The Kids seem lost among the
many other sketch comedy shows, and why this DVD box set will help them reclaim
their position as a preeminent comedy concoction, may be their subtlety. The
Kids in the Hall, for all its craziness and surreality, is perhaps the most
reality-based sketch comedy show ever. Monty Python played a Dadaesque
deconstructive game with the stiff upper lip lunacy of the United Colonialist
Kingdom. Saturday Night Live showed the hippie generation the deep, dark
hangover resulting from too much sex, drugs, and Watergate. And then there was
SCTV, perhaps the ultimate sardonic lampoon of popular culture, mixing
celebrities and situations to create a truly unique form of comedy—call it
Impressionistic satire. So with its world of quirky characters drawn directly
out of real-life situations and its attention to life's little details, The
Kids in the Hall represents the Yin to the rest of sketch comedy's Yang.

Hopefully, A&E will treat us to the rest of The Kids's canon of the
crackpot and help re-elevate them to superstar status. It's time to move over,
Parrot Sketch. Make room at the table, Johnny LaRue and the Gerbils. There's a
group of young men out in the atrium. And they deserve a seat at Comedy's
classic counter.

The Verdict

The Kids in the Hall: The Complete First Season is found not guilty on
all charges and is free to go. A&E are also innocent and released from
custody. Case closed.

Give us your feedback!

Did we give The Kids In The Hall: The Complete First Season a fair trial? yes / no

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Distinguishing Marks

• Commentary by The Kids in the Hall
• An Oral History: 45 Minutes of New Interviews
• Two "Best-of" Compilations Featuring Fan-Favorite Sketches From the Rare Pilot Episode
• 30 Minutes of Previously Unseen Footage from the Rivoli Theater